Property of the Dead
by UpForRent
Summary: McGregor's Academy. A private school off of the coast in England, built for overachievers, the wealthy, and ambassador's children. But, what appears to be normal, is never the real deal. The teachers, who all the students adore, or fear, all have the same sinister secret. Then, one day, they disappear. A strange man traveling in a blue box comes...and changes the lives of many...
1. Prologue-Messenger of the Gods

Property of the Dead

By; UpForRent

**A/N: I do not own Hetalia nor Doctor Who. I DO own Avery, who is telling the story.**

**A/N(2): This is taking place after the first episode of Season 4 of Doctor Who.  
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Prologue;

A Messenger of the Gods

McGregor's Academy.

A school built for academic overachievers, wealthy families, and its number 1 population: foreign exchange students that descend the lines of family ambassadors. It's a hard school to get into, and an easy school to get kicked out of, from low grades to a family going broke. The only ones lucky enough to stay, with all immunity from expulsion and suspension, are the ones who come from a long line of diplomats from various nations.

However, the teachers only have this immunity.

It's rare to not see a foreign exchange student, who has a family past of diplomatic relations; however, it is rare to see a foreign exchange student take an interest in this profession. The teachers have been taught in this school and in this school only. Their parents or grandparents remain anonymous, excluding those who had a grandparent teach there over the years before dying. However, having a mother or father, was never known. Strangely, the principal, who has all files and papers of the staff and its working members, the teachers are all locked, even to him. All he knows is that they are something not human, but something that wasn't alien either.

They appear mortal, the only thing remotely different are their funny, little accents the students like to mimic and make fun of. But, they have an aura, a strange air surrounding them that causes some students to question, or fear, the teacher (that is, if they weren't already petrified of the biology teacher, Mr. Braginski.). Lately, though…

The teachers…

…disappear out of thin air.

It was a strange phenomenon no one could explain, and some of them pretend like it never had happened. It began with the art teacher, Mr. Vargas, or, as some students prefers to call him, Feliciano or Feli, for short. He was the teacher all students adored. Even though, he was clumsy and was in the far reaches of his mind, Mr. Vargas was bright, energetic, and always motivated to teach his students the wonderful world of art.

Feli came from the watery streets of Venice, Italy and has moved to London, England from a fair age with his older brother, Lovino Vargas, who was Mr. Carriedo's assistant in the Spanish classes. Even though, he was poor at academic skills, such as math and science, he excelled at extracurricular or elective classes, like art, drama, or music. Since his grandfather had held a position in World History and as an ambassador for Italy once, he was given the immunity power to not be expelled or suspended. Feli grew up in the academy with only his grandfather and Lovino known as his family. His parents were a mystery, even to himself; he did know who they were. As the years went by, however, after his grandfather had passed away, he had forgotten the mystery involving his parents and continued his studies. Feli soon was given a degree in art and was asked to teach at the school, for they had a short-hand of staff members. He had accepted without hesitation and passed his knowledge onto the students of his art class, especially the ones who had a natural talent for it, like him.

Feli was medium-height, light-weight, and was easy to pick on physically or mentally. He had hair resembling the color of copper; a shiny, auburn hair color with a curl sticking out on his right. His eyes were as bright and wide as the sun; a gorgeous, creamy caramel color popping out of his head. He always had a white smock hanging from his neck, paint splattering it everywhere, so he always looked like he was just getting done painting a picture. He also had this long-sleeved, tan colored shirt on. The sleeves were always rolled up to his elbows and no one has ever seen them lower. Feli wore regular jeans and simple tennis shoes. He walked around all excited like, and has more of a feminine posture than a masculine one. He's very weak both in the physical sense and the mental sense, though it seems like he is a genius within the art category and nowhere else.

The students know him as the only teacher that can be tricked easily by a student, though they say he's so kind-hearted and friendly that no one could find the face to lie to him. I have met him several times in the hallway and, as far as I know, they are correct. His voice was so melodic and it still was tinted with an Italian accent, I could never say the opposite of what I was thinking. However, my friend, Lizzy, has always seen him tripping over his own two feet because he was always so excited. She and I both don't have an idea why he was so jumpy, but he was always so smiley, so we never really bothered as to why the reason. Mr. Vargas wasn't the one who gave out punishment, so anything can go on right in front of him and he would care less about the problem.

As far as I ever known him, he was the perfect teacher every student wishes to have in every class. He was often looked-downed by the senior teachers who worked there for decades and was often times scolded for a lack of discipline, though as I saw one day while delivering a message to him, his classes were pretty under-control and well-behaved. Maybe his good-nature and happiness make the students of his class not want to misbehave, so he doesn't end up being depressed by the time school is over.

Either way, Feli was the first teacher to go. Several others followed behind him the past few weeks: Ludwig Beilshmidt, Honda Kiku, Alfred F. Jones, Arthur Kirkland, Francis Bonnefoy, Wang Yao, and Ivan Braginski. So far, a lot of our academic and elective teachers have disappeared in thin area and some of their disappearances are questionable.

This was a memory shared with Lizzy and now I will share our experience with you. This was during the months of the vanishing teachers. I was also recall the day we had met him.

We had met the man that travels through time and space.

The same man who lives in a strange blue box.

The one without a name.

Except…

...the doctor.

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_Yay! I finally got this story finished. I should focus more on the Russia one though...Anyway, I hoped you like it!_


	2. Chapter 1-Dr Detective

**A/N: I do not own Hetalia or Dr. Who, but I do own VERONICA, LIZZY, and AVERY.**

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Chapter 1;

Dr. Detective

He came a week after Mr. Braginski's disappearance. As I said, he lives in a strange blue box. In fact, that is how he got to McGregor's Academy in the first place! I know it may sound daft, but it's true. You can even ask Lizzy. She saw him, as well as I, on the first day he arrived. It was strange, yet I can't say it was magical. Sure, it happened by some unexplained force that I which cannot comprehend, but it certainly didn't feel magical or in the least bit out of the field of science. It wasn't like Mr. Kirkland, the Literature teacher, who often times believes in such mystical things.

Here's some background information of Mr. Kirkland.

As I had said earlier, he was the Literature teacher, and even though he didn't seem the least bit engaging in his job, unlike Mr. Vargas, he was certainly an engaging teacher. He's the only one on staff who has a local accent, and was in fact, a citizen of London before any of the other teachers came here. Mr. Kirkland's first name is Arthur, though some of the other teachers and students prefer to shorten it to Artie. He was very sarcastic, sometimes even down-right mean if a student either goofs off in classes, or had failed a test or quiz. He was also very intelligent when it came to his classes, though his teaching methods are quite trite. Often times, I find myself bored in his classes, and find myself most interested in another activity that wasn't part of the lesson. Most of the students are this way, but from time to time, he can be quite…how should I put this? Strange or rather...odd; he is rather delusional, as Mr. Jones (the Tech. Ed teacher) puts it. From time to time, we catch him in the middle of a lesson talking to no one in particular, referring to the empty air as Flying Mint Bunny, whatever the hell that is. Sometimes, we hear a Captain Hook escape from his mouth, other times a leprechaun, a couple of times a unicorn, then at certain random times has a conversation with a fairy. Even though, at first it was a little strange, hearing him to speak to something that surely does not exist except from an imagery of his mind, but after a while, we became accustomed to it and began to see it as humorous.

Mr. Kirkland did come from a local district and was born of a wealthy family, mainly due to his father's job as an ambassador for England, so Arthur knows foreign politics better than most. We were very surprised to hear that he was a step-brother of the 2 twin teachers everyone confuses over so much: Mr. Williams, and Mr. Jones, the one who had numerously called Mr. Kirkland delusional. This was surprising, because Mr. Kirkland often times refer to our Tech. Ed teacher as an idiot, and he rarely (if never) sees Mr. Matthew, a civics teacher in the upper grades of 11th and 12th. It turned out that his father and mother had a divorce when he was younger, merely a child just beginning to enter the harsh curriculums of McGregor's Academy. His father, sooner than one would've thought, remarried another woman who had 2 smaller boys in kindergarten, AKA Mr. Jones and Mr. Williams. After they had begun to take classes in the academy, Arthur was beginning to step-up a level by skipping several classes to get to a higher level of that particular academic skill set. A few more years passed, then his father had passed away and his step-mother (whom he disliked most certainly) had gone into a state of depression refusing to eat or drink anything. Soon, this led her to her own demise and she had joined the ranks of heaven with his father. Afterwards, he had begun to push himself to exceed all of his classmates, causing him to skip the whole grade if he showed he could handle it. Quickly, he got an advanced diploma and took college for literature and English. Soon afterwards, which was when Mr. Jones and Mr. Williams graduated; he came back and took a position as Literature teacher when the last one retired for good.

Arthur was pretty short, not as short as Mr. Honda, the Cultural teacher, but his younger brothers surely were a foot taller than him. He, just like Feli, was very light, but unlike the art teacher, he wasn't quite as easy to pick on mentally or physically for that matter. Sure, from time to time, people got on his nerves or simply had him believing in something, but it took some convincing to do for him to fall for such tricks. His hair was short, and had a shiny gleam from its blonde locks, sometimes popping out red tints in it or becomes nothing more than yellowy sunshine. His eyes were much like emeralds, a deep green lightened by that mad look he got in his eye whenever he talks to his imaginary friends. Arthur always wore a neat and prim suit to school, the colors varying each day. From time to time, he wore a dark green RAF uniform to school, other times it was a brown or dark gray suit with a red necktie around his neck. Occasionally we see him with a satchel, but the majority of the year, he keeps it at his home. He wore a lot of loafers around the building, time to time switching them up with boots to keep from appearing old. His most noticeable and always favorite feature, were his big, bushy eyebrows resting on his head. Mr. Bonnefoy, the French language teacher, often refers to them as caterpillars eyes. It suited him better than you would think, but all the same they seemed out of place on his head, moreover the only thing you can stare it without appearing rude.

Mr. Kirkland believes in a lot of…magically beings you often only see in a fairytale, which would probably explain his imaginary friends. He doesn't get along with a lot of the teachers, including his two brothers, and is mostly deemed unfavorable by some of his students, though it doesn't really bother him that much. He has a good amount of friends to say he isn't unlikable, just harder to know, though Mr. Jones had kept putting on airs about how posh and annoying the man truly is. In my honest opinion, he's just your average school teacher just trying to get by on what he has and what needs to be done, so it would make sense that he may seem unreasonably rotten at first. Lizzy seems to like him dearly, in fact he's one of her many favorite teachers, close behind Mr. Edelstein, the band director.

Mr. Kirkland would've thought the arrival of the doctor was magic, when really it wasn't. Simply as I said before, it was powered by some form or shape of science that I yet could not comprehend at the moment. You might if you were smart enough to figure it out only at a glance, watching the way the phone box had appeared in the middle of the courtyard, not five feet away from a very peculiarly-shaped oak tree that squatted next to a window connected to Mr. Kirkland's room. I was outside, alone with only a slip of paper as company. At the moment, I was supposed to be in Mr. Braginski's biology class, but since it was a sub that had no idea how to run the class without assistance, I had to leave to go to the office to copy some papers for her. The office was in a separate building across the courtyard, connected to a generator buzzing loudly in a high-closed off voltage fence surrounding the metallic device within. Next to the building sat a rather large, if not misshapen, dump full of strewn garbage, overflowing and leaping out of the smelly heap of tissues, old paper, moldy textbooks, and such other objects no one would no longer use in the years to come.

At first, I assumed the sound was the continuing, never-ending whirring of the generator, the continuous buzz that has often annoyed Mr. Kirkland, who had an open window every day leading to the courtyard. Taking this to a deep thought process, I concluded it was nothing more than just the generator, but as I had kept walking unaware, the whirr grew in more volume, a tremendous sound one would dare to hear in the middle of a courtyard. It began to get louder, causing me to stop and consider the moment wisely before I take another step. As another moment passed by, the sound became much louder and more overpowering than the generator itself, taking my first hypothesis to being entirely wrong. Suddenly, I caught something in the corner of my eye. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but my brain was surely not playing any tricks on me. For sure, a 2nd shape was appearing next to the generator's fence.

It appeared translucent at first before, much like the volume; it began to become more defined. The empty void beside the fence was quickly taken up by a strange, blue wooden box. At the top, no longer flashing like it was before, sat a blue light bulb, dimmed and still oddly bright. Going down a bit further, much closer to the door, in English print, sat a sign stating what phone box it was.

_Police Call Box._

**A police call box?**, I thought, the question resounding in my head. **But, they no longer are in use!**, I kept thinking, more odd questions and awkward answers pouring in my brain. There was another sign; it was on the door leading to the inside, but I couldn't read it from the distance, and even if I could, I could not read it fast enough, for a man had stepped out of the box. He was a strange man, even though his features appeared British, he sure was not an Englishman coming from London to visit a child in the academy.

Tall, possibly reaching the height of Mr. Braginski, shaven, and neat, stood a man wearing a long trench coat that went all the way to his ankles. He wore a dark grayish-bluish suit, supporting a white undershirt and a fancy, matching necktie to go along with. His hair was very brown, brown and it appeared soft to the touch, though I had never did. It was all spiked up, almost like he had put his finger in an outlet, curious to the reaction, and got electrocuted from the power. His eyes were just as brown, appearing darker than they should be. He had this cocky grin on his face, which almost instantly disappeared in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing on in his face in a state of misunderstanding. I cautiously walked up to him, weary at first to talk to a stranger, who coincidentally was a strange man.

I came into earshot the instant he had opened his mouth, speaking in a feisty, but soft volume that I certainly would not hear from where I was formerly standing. "No…No, no, no! This can't be right! I set the coordinates to the year 1534! How am I still in present day England?!" said the man, pacing back and forth in front of his…vehicle. He began muttering under his breath, something about the TARDIS malfunctioning than a switch to a curse sent to Gallifrey. He didn't seem to see me at all, or who was around anyway.

I cleared my throat when I reached a certain diameter I was certain he could hear me from. Quickly, he stopped pacing about, looked at me with surprise, then speedily walked towards me in a brisk manner, almost as if to address me. Once he had come close enough for me to see his face clearly, but far enough way to not invade my personal space, he stopped. The man quietly gazed at me curiously, almost as if scanning me to insure that I was solidly there and not some mere mirage flickering and wavering in front of his eyes. After a few moments of this, he gave me a kind, almost soft-hearted smile, and quietly awaited for me to say something.

At first, I remained silent, almost unsure if I had wanted to say something at all, but after a few moments of debating with myself, and I had asked a simple, everyday question.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled wider and seemed pleased with my response. "Oh, I'm the Doctor." Was his response. "Doctor who?" I asked him again. "Nobody, just the Doctor." He simply stated, waving one of his hands dismissively. "I do suppose _you _have a name, however. Unless, you just got a title much like me." He said. I wasn't sure if that was his way of asking who I was, but it was the best I could guess answering it. "I'm Avery; Avery Wellington of Scotland at your service. Is there anything you need?" I had answered courteously. "Where am I?" was the response. I blinked in surprise in the straight-forward question coming from his mouth. "McGregor's Academy, sir; I don't suppose you were expecting anything else." I replied kindly.

"Actually, I was."

"Where, may I ask sir?"

"That's a secret I can't tell, Avery."

"Why not?"

"Because, as simple as answering it would not give you the complex details you need in order to comprehend the situation."

I looked at him funny. "Sir, who exactly are you?" I quizzically asked him. "As I had said, the Doctor of course. No one else, but myself." He answered.

"What's the answer to the Universe then?"

"That's a rather long explanation to tell you, young lady. Why must you need to know?"

"It's not very long at all."

"It took a super computer 7 million years just to calculate the answer."

"Wasn't it…42?"

"Yes, yes it was."

I smiled at him, and waved him to the office building. "Perhaps, if you asked the patrons that run around London the most, they might help you find your way." I had told him. He shook his head. "No, no, I should be going. I got lots of stuff to do. Changing the world, saving it from near destruction of an alien planet, nothing to crazy, I'm sure." He had told me. I gave him a puzzled smile before a blonde-haired girl had stepped out of the office, her blue-green eyes swimming with confusion and grievance.

"Veronica? What's the matter?" I asked her as she passed by. She gazed at me with sad eyes, completely ignoring the apparent intrigued doctor from behind her head. "One of the teachers disappeared again." She said depressingly. This caused a very curious spark in the man's eyes. I quickly took he over to the nearby oak tree, ignoring the frustrated yelling of Mr. Kirkland's replacement inside. "This time…it was…my drama…teacher, Mr. Lukasiewicz. He had been…gone since this morning." She was heavily panting, shock was gripping her. I instructed her to go get some water immediately and left Veronica walking half-heartedly to the water fountain.

The Doctor sprang up behind me. I was surprised and had turned around just in time to watch him pop out of nowhere. I got my bearings together quickly and gazed at him with my deep, blue eyes. "Yes, is there something you need sir?" I asked.

"Could you tell me what she meant by 'one of the teachers disappeared again'?"

"Oh, it's nothing really."

"It sounds pretty serious. I can be of assistance if you want the help?"

"Like a detective?"

He gave me this goofy smirk, his voice going into sing-song teasing tone. "Then, call me Dr. Detective if you will." He said. I shrugged my shoulders. "Fine. I don't see why not?" I had responded. He nodded his head, then gazed at the office building.

"Could you be a dear and help me to that office building, if you don't mind?"

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_Woo-hoo! Finally done with this chapter! I hope you guys liked it! Btw, tell me if any of you saw the small reference I had made!_


	3. Chapter 2-Questions From a Doctor

Chapter 2;

Questions from a Doctor

**A/N: I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO OR HETALIA. ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS.**

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The man—who had wanted me to call him the Doctor—was a very odd individual. I could tell that by the moment he had stepped out of that blue Police Callbox. The way he walked was even strange to me. Not to mention his recent appearance was oddly unsettling, but very comforting all at the same time. It didn't take long for me quickly adjust to this equation of irrationality from a man who came from an irrational vehicle. However, throughout his stay at the Academy, I always seemed to find a surprise hidden around every corner whenever I stay near him, so much so that I began to expect the phenomenon every few seconds and was quite rarely kept in apprehension. Despite the critical circumstances around the teachers, he seemed quite cheery and very in spirit, but underneath that was a building fire, burning all in its path that has proven dangerous, protecting those behind the warmth and ember. I could see it in his soft brown eyes, the way he jumped from foot to foot while walking, the way he talked with such passion and verve. His whole body was shaking quietly underneath his trench coat and suit, quivering from an unknown source of excitement, expectation of an adventure—a mystery—in his muscles. He was prepared for something big, something I wasn't quite expecting at the end of this. The Doctor was a very intriguing man, to say the least.

As we walked from the old oak tree standing majestically next to Mr. Kirkland's window to the office building not far from our original location, I couldn't help, but notice the air of tension around my shoulders when Veronica went back inside, like a predicated heat wave ready to blow. It was strong and most uncomfortable to be set in, a heavy weight pressed on my back seemed more appealing than this. I tried my best to quicken my pace, to get out of the thick-feeling apprehension, but the Doctor was too busy examining the courtyard to notice my faster stride, his eyes scanning the entrances and the stone monuments, the trees and the grass, benches and the generator next to the office, and the buildings themselves. I could see and sense the impression in his eyes, what he was thinking and what he felt at the moment:

Curious. He felt very curious.

He was resisting the urge to go around and touch everything with his hands, to look at every crevice and crack that ran along the stone and brick of every monument and building. He wanted to study, to experiment what was in front of his eyes, what he could hear, and what he could taste. All of his five senses were alive, preparing for what a doctor would do, but he remained vigilant, trying to ignore the sensations of experimentation. I could tell it took a lot of willpower to control that fire that was now rising at high levels, to keep it from spreading and burning everything in its wake. A protective fire is just as dangerous as was its original purpose in life: to kill everything cruelly and slowly. Even if it was served as a light, as a savior to guide your way through the darkness, it was meant to destroy those around it. Keeping it maintained was the key to survival; as such things in life are like.

The Doctor quickly opened the door without a word as we reached our goal, walking stealthily inside the office, trying to avoid all hysteria within its cold, stone walls. The office secretaries—Ms. Bee (it's actually Ms. Braginski, Ivan's big sister, but since we have another one working on the school grounds, we shortened it) and Ms. Herdevary (a young, Hungarian woman who is usually caught doing work that isn't listed under the means of secretary)—were both trying to keep all papers and folders neatly stacked on their desks while the Headmaster, Mr. Zwingli (or Vash, as we like to call him), rambled on repeatedly about the importance of security in the school for the teachers and the students. He was demanding a raise in arms, as well as self-defense classes prior to the school curriculum. Ms. Herdevary seemed quite pleased by that idea, but Ms. Bee was a little more or less hesitant to agree to such a demand. Actually, I think she wanted to cry from the continuous rant from the Headmaster. The way he made it sound, it sounded like he was blaming them for the disappearance of all the teachers, including Mr. Braginski's innocent big sister playing as secretary.

I took my blue-eyed gaze away from them and settled on the prim and neat younger woman in the farther right corner of the room, who was calm and collective, humming a tune as time was passing by. Her hands shifted a little before quietly stacking the papers neatly right next to her. This was the Headmaster's sister, Lilli, who wasn't an official employee of the school, but did in fact, worked just as hard as any other staff member. She wasn't paid to do the work, but seeing it as a way to help her big brother; she didn't mind the least about doing it.

I turned my attention back to the Headmaster, Mr. Zwingli, who happened to notice my presence as well as the strange man next to me. The look he gave the Doctor was obviously suspicion. Not that I can blame him for it. For the very least, I understood why he felt such a way. And the reason is the vanishing teachers.

What would you expect? A stranger appears inside your office with one of your students after a recent disappearance by Mr. Lukasiewicz, who was quite passionate of his position within the teaching community, and the fact that he was so mysterious didn't help much either. The Doctor would no doubt not escape the watchful eyes of Mr. Zwingli or anyone else who was in the office at the moment. However, something told me that he would rest the wary minds of those here, especially the Headmaster. It didn't seem right to think such matters, but I began to speculate that this man has seen more problematic societies than our own here on Earth. He was so calm and forth-coming in the events yet to come, it seemed like this was natural to him, almost admiring the stability of our roots, our future, our failures, and our successes. From afar, it could be mistaken for infatuation.

The Headmaster gave the secretaries warning glances before striding over to the man beside me, his murky green eyes taken in the well-dressed individual. A rifle was slung on the back of Mr. Zwingli, black leather strapped across his chest and buckled behind him, the brown weaponry carefully hanging by a thread. Ms. Herdevary and Ms. Bee turned their backs on the promising conversation about to pass, sliding their chairs towards their computers and talking quietly, whispering words going through their ears and out their mouths.

"Ms. Wellington, shouldn't you be in class?" Mr. Zwingli asked me out of the blue. I was about to respond, to give him my message and leave him alone with the Doctor, but the man continued, "You shouldn't be out and about by yourself, you know. Dangerous things can happen to you! Remember, stranger danger is the key to being safe." I glanced at the Headmaster before opening my mouth, "Mr. Zwingli, sir, I was asked by Mr. Laurinaitis to give you this message." I handed him a slip of paper with neat scrawl on the outside. He gave it a look, but accepted it nonetheless. "I'll look at it later. Now, back to class with you." He ordered as he gently took the letter. As I was turning around, the Doctor stopped me.

"Excuse me, sir, but may I ask for Ms. Wellington's assistance?" he politely prodded. The Headmaster gave me a stare I shall never shake off. "You told him your name? Have we taught you nothing about civil defense? Looks like we may have to retake that class." He stated calmly, giving me a fiery stare. I shuddered as the Doctor gave him a warm smile.

"You're teaching civil defense? In an academy? That's fantastic! So many humans nowadays forget how to protect themselves from strangers…Well, strangers that aren't me of course. I mean, I'm not unknown to this world, or to London. So, I don't suppose you would like to give me more information about these…disappearances?" he answered. I was a little taken aback by his nonchalant response, but I wasn't quite as shocked as Mr. Zwingli, who was completely blown away by the strange greeting. The Doctor just gave another goofy smile before barging into the next room over: the information room.

"Let's start our investigations here, then. Care to join me?"

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"So, how long has this been going on?" the Doctor prodded, a cup of tea in his hand, his bum on a couch and Mr. Zwingli in a chair across from him, sipping hot chocolate. I was standing up, looking around the ornate room, and catching small details like cracks on the walls, old mouse holes, and small pieces of peeling paint. Nothing out of the ordinary to me.

The Headmaster shrugged. "Been going on for a couple of weeks, I suppose, but I never keep track of the time. I have more important things to worry about than the hours I work, you know." He answered, his Switz accent protruding a bit out of his voice. The Doctor gave a thoughtful look, then leaned forward curiously. "What kind of work is so much more important than time? You never know. Sometimes-actually, a lot of times-people act like it's never important, than when days go by and hours are up and you're on your deathbed, you wonder 'Where has the time gone?'." He asked.

I gazed at him with wonder. This was a question that sounded less than investigating, however I had no say in the matter, for this conversation was for adults.

How was I supposed to know that time was important?

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_Omg, guys! I am so sorry! I hadn't been updating a lot because of stress, writer's block, school, and exams. I also had to write 27 pages for a short-story in order to audition for a Govenor's school, majoring in Literary Arts. I was so relieved to get it finished, then I had this stuff I wanted to get to so bad, but my laziness and the fact that I ran out of ideas made me hold-up! That's why this chapter is so short! I also had to do Algebra and Band exams, plus a Civics SOL and an English Semester test...I also have a recording project due next Friday for band...Ugh! Again, I am so sorry! But, hey, at least I finally came around to updating! Super yippee!_


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